Three Words
by IzzySenpaiChan
Summary: An original story with a few mentioned DBZ characters. This story proves that life and death go hand in hand when they're created.
1. Chapter 1

(Hello, everybody~ ovo I'm back again with this little thingamabob. None of you will really know what this is about, as this is exclusively for one person to see. This will be deleted after both parts have been read, so it won't linger long!

Also, this isn't edited, so if you find typos, please forgive me |'D)

The smell of medicine was strong. I didn't expect it to be much like this. Parenthood...well, the beginning. I didn't expect myself to feel so guilty for making her pregnant. It seemed like I was making her go through so much pain. I hated seeing her in pain. She was such a sweet soul.

I looked her in the eyes, seeing a smile in them. I felt a bit better. She was straining. It must be taking a toll on her. Labor always does this to women. I just wasn't sure when it's too much.

I already knew a large group waited outside the hospital room. They were expecting something grand. The twins. I could imagine them now. Sweet and loving. Just like her.

I smiled. "You'll be okay."

She nodded beside me. Another strain.

I brushed her hair back, seeing an appreciative glance at me. Even when in pain, she managed to stay kind.

Even to me. Even when I'd killed so many people.

Through all the sins I'd made, she was still there to hold my hand. She already had so much pain from her condition.

I remember the devastation I had felt when I had learned she had breast cancer. The guilt that raced through my face when I had met her. It was one of the first things she told me. She said it with a smile, as if she were complimenting the weather. She said it as the wind blew between us, the sun just starting to set.

I felt guilty.

After so many people I'd hurt, here was one I didn't even have to touch to hear she was hurt. It wasn't even showing on the outside. It was inside. "I found out at a doctor's visit about a year ago," she had said, watching the sun. "I was terrified."

She said it all with a smile. I could tell she was still scared of it. Then I knew I had loved her. It wasn't much, but she seemed brave and scared at the same time. It was a long silence between us then. I had said nothing the whole time. I remember how thick the silence was to me, yet it seemed like it was nothing to her. Then she finally looked at me.

"I know what you're thinking," she had said, the sun's rays leaving a streak of gold on her face. "You want to say, 'I'm so sorry'."

She was right.

"Don't," she continued. She had turned back to the sun. "Just tell me good luck. When you tell me you're sorry, it's like you've seen my future. And in the future, I've died from cancer. But good luck tells me you've looked and you've seen me alive. Good luck lets me know you're cheering me on. Sorry lets me know that you're thinking I'm going to die."

In the hospital room, I wondered why the memory was so important to me. It came so vividly all of a sudden. "Good luck," I say gently. Her eyes lingered on me, surprise in them. She was straining once more. I pressed my forehead to hers, telling her she was going to be okay. And she was. She was strong. Anyone who can fight cancer is strong.

I gave a kiss to her forehead, my hand lingering on her cheek before I moved it back to her hand. I gave her an affectionate squeeze. "You'll be okay," I said again. "You'll be okay."

My memories came back. I remember how happy she seemed when I finally managed to tell her I loved her. I had said it with practiced caution. She gave no hesitation to her smile. That's how she always was. She never hesitated to a beaming smile. She had hugged me tightly, saying things with such a happy tone. I couldn't help but smile, hugging her back. She was so very happy. I was on cloud nine. She gave me a kiss on the cheek, hugging me again. I had never felt better.

I was pulled from the memory when my phone lit up. Augustine.

A text on the screen read, "How's she doing?"

I quickly texted back with my free hand. "Okay."

"How about you, Dez? How are you holding up?"

"Fine."

"Busy?"

"Yes."

He took longer to respond this time. "Text if something goes wrong." I wasn't able to respond, as a nurse took the phone from me. She looked cross. I returned my attention to her.

"Donna." Years ago I had heard her say that.

"That's a nice name." She had smiled. It was a sweet, polite smile.

"What about yours?"

"Desmond. Desmond Gorman."

"Oh, nice. We both have 'D' in our name." She smiled again. "We can be friends, if you'd like."

"Sure." I had smiled, though to be polite. I had met her on the way to complete on contract. Then I still had my mistake on my mind. I didn't pull the trigger on Bulma. Alker, my boss, didn't know. She figured she was dead. Thank God she didn't watch the news.

Donna had seen me pull the trigger on someone. It wasn't far from where she lived, evidently. Walking home from work, she had seen me terminate my target without hesitation near the tracks of a train. The body had fallen without a sound, but somehow Donna managed to know. She had given me a look.

There wasn't any hate in it. Nothing negative. Nothing positive. Completely neutral. She continued walking home.

I heard my phone vibrate for another text from Augustine. It was in the nurse's hands now, so she responded. I looked at Donna. She looked concerned at me, despite her own situation. I pulled a smile.

She gave a questionable look before she had to push again. I could tell she was in a lot of pain. I pressed my lips to her temple. "You'll be okay."

She nodded. Those three words were pulling her through. That's what I always said to her at any doctor appointments. Every chemo and surgery. Those three words pulled her through. That was all she needed. All she needed to know was that she was going to be okay. And I knew she would be. She was strong. She was fighting.

Somehow that brought me to one argument we had. The argument that turned my life around. We'd been together for only five months. But she seemed...afraid.

It was all about the person I had killed at the tracks. The day I had first met her.

I tried to explain to her that it was just my job. She had gone silent. She had tears.

"You're making me afraid of you," she had said. And those words stung. It felt like someone had placed a white-hot coal on my chest. She had said those six words so quietly, barely above a whisper, yet she had managed to hit me so hard. I remember not responding. Her small hands were in fists. She was shaking.

"Seeing you kill someone made me scared of you. I love you, but...I don't want you to play me like that. I don't want you to shoot me dead in the back just for your job." I recall hugging her tightly. She ended up allowing me to. She had sobbed into my chest when I gently put my chin on top of her head. Her shoulders that I had thought frail were shaking. I had never seen her cry before. She never cried. She was so strong. A fighting spirit. She made me feel more regret than I had ever felt.

"I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I swear," I had said gently. "I'll get a different job. You don't have to be afraid." I remember the complete shock on her face. Obviously she had expected for me to shoot her or something for saying it. Yet even then she trusted me enough to allow me to hug her. With tears still rolling down her cheeks, she gave her warm smile, suddenly happy. She had hugged me again.

I had kept my word. Using my degree in medical practice that I had gotten so long, I had gotten a job as a pediatric surgeon. Unfortunately, my degree had expired after so long. My long criminal record didn't help. The dream I had had as a child and a teenager was wholly tarnished by that criminal job. Still, Donna helped me. She persuaded her cousin to allow me to work with her in mechanics.

I heard Donna groan beside me on the hospital bed. I heard the doctor say something. He didn't look totally confident. I didn't care. Donna was going to see it through. She was strong. A fighting spirit. She was going to be okay.

She looked scared. She wasn't crying, however. She was used to pain, in a way. She was used to chemo, surgery, and even emotional pain. She was going to be okay. I held her hand a little tighter. My chest felt constricted with worry.

"You'll be okay. Don't worry. Just focus," I whispered into her ear. "I love you. You can do it."

She nodded once, taking a deep breath. I felt tired. Drained. Caffeine was what I craved. But I didn't dare leave. I didn't want to do what Augustine had done and end up with a born set of twins when I leave for coffee.

Donna Richardson. It was such a simple name. Yet it had its own type of support on itself. It was strong on its own. It didn't need any help. I didn't know why I thought that, but it just seemed so.

Donna looked exhausted. She didn't look ready to quit, though. She looked like she wanted to go on for hours to get the twins born. She was ready for it. I glanced at the window it was night time. It looked like it was way past sunset. There was only the bright hospital lights.

Bright lights. The bright lights of the room when I had asked the important question. She looked genuinely surprised. It looked like millions of questions had run through her head. It felt like thousands of years when it was only a few seconds on a bended knee with the box out.

She said no.

She didn't want to get married. Yet. She said it would have to wait. She didn't want to move in. Yet. That was the word she used to cheer me up: Yet. She looked so concerned for me, but she said to hold on to the ring. She said she didn't want me to get so wrapped around her with her cancer. She didn't want me to end up heart broken if she died.

I just hugged her. I told her that I would make sure she didn't die from it. We'd live a happy life. She was the love of my life. She loved me and I loved her. She supported me despite my sins. She understood my motivations. And I understood hers. Even when her son, Lucas, despised me, she loved me.

When she found out she was pregnant, she promised she would move in once they were born. She promised she would say yes next time. She had given me a gentle kiss as something of a seal of the promise.

Marriage. An actual wedding. Not one like before - that one I screwed up. That one I couldn't redo. But this one I could make sure I did just right. She would love it. I smiled to myself.

She didn't see my smile. She continued on for the both of us. Before I even knew it, the sun was already beginning to rise. The soft glow of it just peaking over the horizon brought a sense of comfort. She would be okay. I loved her. It would pull her through she would be okay.

"This is bad."

That wasn't what I expected to hear. The doctor had said three words of his own. How many times had he had to say them? He couldn't be saying it to me, of course. Donna was doing just fine. Her breathing was even, her heart beat strong.

"A lot of blood," he murmured.

"Don't think about that," I said quickly to Donna. She was beginning to grow concerned. It was obvious. She had fear and pain in her eyes. "Donna. You're going to be okay. You'll be alright. Everything is fine. Just keep pushing." I gave a quick kiss on her cheek, my hand squeezing hers. She gave a weak squeeze back, a soft smile on her face.

Her eyes held something else. They held something...sadness? Why should she be sad? She hadn't cursed at me or said a word all throughout her labor. She didn't blame me for putting her in the mess she was in. She had a look of knowing. She knew something I didn't.

Her eyes lingered on mine for several seconds. She gasped, another contraction hitting her hard. She winced, and I held her brushed her hair back. "You'll be okay," I whispered shakily. I didn't know why her eyes looked so dark and sad.

The doctor's words echoed in my head. A lot of blood. That's normal, right? There's always blood. It always happens. She's okay. We're okay. We're going to walk out of the room with the twins.

"You'll be okay." She nodded in agreement...at least I hoped it was agreement. She looked as if she did it just to make me feel better.

Finally, she said something.

"Desmond," she said through breaths. "I love you."

"I love you too," I say, kissing her on the cheek. "You'll be okay." She went silent. She was still going. Her eyes closed.

She looked so exhausted. She winced.

"You'll be okay. Come on, you can do it," I say gently, my thumb running over the back of her hand. "You can do it, Donna."

"This is bad."

Another set of three words.

"You'll be okay," I whisper.

It was all I could say. I was sick with nerves. My hands were shaking. I was concerned. The doctor wasn't helping. He glanced at me, then back to what he was doing. He looked sorry. Why? She was going to be okay.

I remember when I first met Lucas. He looked shy. He looked like he didn't like me much as well. He said to his mother that he hated me. I managed to hear it, even when he whispered it in a corner. I heard him try to reason with her.

"He's a killer," he had said. "He could kill you. Mom, I'm worried."

Donna had assured him that it wasn't the case.

"Mom, please, open your eyes. He's going to kill you!"

"No, he won't," she said firmly. She said it with a smile.

He was silent for a few moments. "He's not going to be my step-dad. I'm never calling him anything. You know I hate him."

He hated me because I was a killer. Wouldn't be the first person. He'd be last in line.

Donna gave a yell of pain.

"You'll be okay," I say gently. "Think of Lucas. He'll be glad to see them." That was a lie. We both knew that. He had told the both of us that he wasn't considering the two as his own. Anything with my blood was tainted.

Donna looked just about ready to faint. The sun was up now. Time was going by so fast. She was pale. Her breaths were growing smaller and smaller.

"You'll be okay." I was saying it more to myself now.

"Desmond." It was the doctor. He looked directly at me. He was telling me something through his eyes. I couldn't read it. No, I didn't want to read it. I looked back to Donna. I squeezed her hand.

"Donna," I say gently. She gave a weak squeeze in return. She opened her eyes slowly. "You're strong. You can do this. Come on."

She closed her eyes again. She gave my hand another squeeze. It felt like she had barely done anything. I heard the monitor. The heart was slow. No. No.

No.

It doesn't mean anything.

She's going to be okay. She's going to be okay.

"Donna."

Nothing.

"Donna, please." I squeezed her hand again. It felt limp.  
I heard the movement of nurses and doctors. "Donna, please. Please. Answer me." I felt my voice catch in my throat.

The monitor was flat lining.

My heart was beating too fast. Why wasn't hers? It should be beating. My heart was still beating. Her heart needs to beat. Mine can't without hers. She needs to wake up. Her heart needs to beat.

She wasn't breathing.

"Donna. Donna. Wake up," I say, my voice shaking. A tear rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. "Donna!"

"She's gone."

"Her heart is flat lining."

"She's not waking up."

"The twins, sir."

All of them were talking to each other and to the doctor. She wasn't gone. No. No. No.

It wasn't happening.

She is strong.

She is a fighting spirit.

Three words.

You'll be okay.

No.

She was strong.

She was a fighting spirit.

Three words.

Too much blood.

She's not okay.

No.

I pressed my forehead against hers, tears running down my cheeks. "Donna, wake up. Donna, please...don't leave me. Don't let me go. Come on...Donna..." I felt two hands gently lay them on my shoulders. "Donna, you're going to be okay," I say through tears. "Come on. You can do it."

"She's gone," I hear a nurse say.

"No, she's not! She's going to be o-okay!" Tears were coming too fast.

My body felt numb. Donna. Donna. Donna. It was all I could think about. She looked too still. She looked...

Dead.

No! She can't be. She promised. She promised. She can't.

I somehow ended up away from Donna. I was separated. My hand wasn't holding hers. It felt empty. It felt cold. My hand needed hers. She needed a pulse. I was shaking.

Donna.

What about when you promised we'd marry?

What about the twins?

What do you expect me to do?

She can't leave. She can't.

She can't leave when I love her this much. She loves me.  
I caught myself praying. I was praying for her to come back through tears. Donna. Donna.

Nothing.

Absolutely no response.

I felt numb. I could only feel the tears and the hand that held hers. I couldn't feel my heart beating. It can't beat without hers. It can't. She loved me through my sins. She loved me despite her son. She gave me peace. She made me who I am. She made me actually want to love someone. She made me want to care. She doesn't hate me.

She can't just leave. She can't. She can't. If she loves me, she can't.

I knew I was falling apart. I was crumbling. It was obvious. I didn't have the one holding me together. She wasn't drawing breath.

My mind went blank.

I couldn't think. I only had Donna's smile in my head. A still, unmoving image of her smile. The glow of the sun on her skin. Her hair was still instead of moving. Donna.

She can't let me go.

I heard my phone vibrate on a surface. It was Augustine, I knew it. Everything else happened in a blur. I was crying my heart out. When I looked up to Donna, she was gone. They carried her out.

I didn't get to say goodbye. She was gone. She was gone.

I cried harder. My body was shaking, but I couldn't feel it. Four words.

Don't let me go.

They repeated over and over in my head. I refused to believe it. It wasn't happening.

Moments later, the doctor approached me. I managed to calm myself.

"Your kids are okay."

My body melted. The twins. They're okay.

But Donna wasn't.

The doctor looked at me expectantly.

"What do you want to name them?" He asked gently. He must have repeated himself.

"I...I-I..." I couldn't speak.

"Boy and a girl."

"D-Donna."

"Donna. And?"

I hesitated. Donna came so easily to my head. A boy?

"Louis. L-Louis."

He wrote them down on a piece of paper. He handed it to me. "Can you please write down your signature under father?"

I looked down at the paper. Under "mother", it said, Donna Richardson.

Next to it was stamped, "DECEASED".

I broke. I didn't know why the doctor was expecting me to do all this now. I was a wreck. I signed.

Three words.

You'll be okay.

Donna.

She's not okay.

Three words.

She wasn't even there to hear them anymore.

Three words.


	2. Chapter 2

(Not too happy with this one! OvO" Not as emotional as the other one in my opinion, but here ya go! I hope you like!)

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. I looked up, tears still falling, seeing the two kids Donna gave birth to being walked out to be cleaned. I didn't even get to see them. Maybe they did take some consideration into my being.

That or they think I'm completely demented.

I don't blame them. My heart is completely torn.

Donna.

Another wave of sobs hit me. How did she stop breathing? She was doing just fine. She couldn't just leave me. She promised. She promised.

I'm stuck with the two now.

No, I'm stuck with three.

One that hates me.

Two that don't know me.

Zero I know how to take care of.

I took off the scrubs I was given and tossed them on the bed. My body lurched in the feeling of crying, but I had no more tears. I couldn't produce anymore. I managed to get to the door, but it felt like I was slammed onto the wood. My body felt like lead.

There was no support.

She was dead.

I wanted to look at the bed, but I knew I would get that painful lurching again. Just thinking about it brought it back. I felt no tears roll down my cheeks.

All I could think about was Donna.

I couldn't think about the kids.

Donna.

Five letters. Just five letters tormented my mind. The woman I couldn't save.

The woman I couldn't live without.

The woman that changed my life.

I wanted to crumple back to the floor. Even though I had stayed up all night, my whole body was sensitive. My mind was going on overdrive. It was going through every memory I had with her.

It was like her life was flashing through my eyes. No, it was the life I had wanted flashing before my eyes. Nothing more. It was like life was mocking me. It was saying I had lost her. She was out of my grasp. I couldn't get her back.

The cancer patient.

The miracle.

The fighting spirit.

The peacemaker.

The sin reliever.

The single mother.

The pregnant woman.

My lover.

None of them I could save. All of them fell through my fingers. She wasn't one person. She was so much more than that. She was so much to me. She changed me. She...

I couldn't live without her.

It felt like I would open the door and she would be standing there, the shining smile on her cheeks. I would hug her and we'd go see the kids. All that happened was the monitor lost battery and she fell asleep. That's it. Nothing more. I would be overreacting and have tear stains on my cheeks. She would comfort me and I would be glad to have her back.

Promise and promise she would be okay.

Swear and swear I'll be a fantastic father.

What a failure I was. Here I was, leaning on the door like an old man, not even going to see my kids. They need someone. They need a parent.

A parent that could smile.

I wasn't that parent.

I didn't know if I ever wanted to smile again. Even with the bright lights, I felt like I was forced into a dark moment. I lurched again. I coughed instead of let out tears. My throat burned. I was going to get dehydrated if I didn't drink something later on.

I finally steeled myself to open the door. I looked at my hand that was reaching for the handle. It was the same hand that held hers. It felt cold to me. I didn't feel a pulse. It felt like the stop of her pulse froze my arm in place.

The room felt cold. Maybe it was just me.

That or the Grim Reaper was still there.

The thought made me want to turn around and try to find him. Demand he give back Donna.

Donna.

Another lurch.

I opened the door.

Stepping out, I expected to see everyone outside the hall. The Sons. The Briefs. The Mitchells. Augustine.

I was greeted by no one.

They went home.

They don't care.

Why should they?

They all hate me.

All the memories of what I've done hit me. Donna kept them at bay.

Donna.

All of the people I've killed. All of the blood I've spilled. All of it. I've wasted my life on destroying others'. No wonder Donna was taken. I deserved it.

None of those lives meant nothing to me. Now they all mattered. Seeing someone you love die in front of you...

Her smile.

Her touch.

Her words.

Flat line.

Breaking.

Guilt.

Sins.

So many consequences stacked against me. All the nurses and the doctor had gone to the nursery.

Why wasn't I there?

No one would want me there.

I had kids there. I have to be there.

You'll break.

I'm already broken.

I broke a long time ago.

Donna.

My legs gave out. I felt the cold of my palms on my face. My shoulders shook with silent sobs. My throat burned. No tears fell. Dry, painful sobs racked my body.

Donna.

I remembered when she cried. She was silent. She was so warm when I hugged her. She had a heart beat. She was so fragile. I remember how she was beautiful even when she was sad. Puffy, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks couldn't take that away from her.

"I promise."

Too many promises I gave. So many of them were broken. So many.

"I promise to protect you with my life."

Who was I kidding? She died without any of my protection.

Why was she taken?

Why?

I couldn't find an answer.

I picked myself up. My left hand stayed over my mouth. I was scared of my right. The right hand I held her hand with. I was scared I would remember every time I held her hand and I would break even further.

Donna.

The warmth of her hand. I remember how nervous she was on our first date. She still smiled.

"Thank you for bringing me here," she would say.

"It's no problem," I would respond. Reaching over, I held her hand. She held mine. Gazing at stars.

How she loved the stars.

The stars.

Everything she loved.

She loved to paint.

Landscapes. Hills. Valleys.

I remember how much she hated fish.

How I laughed when she told me.

How she cried when I yelled at her.

How warm she was against me when I hugged her.

When she hugged me back.

When she forgave me.

When she didn't care how much I sinned.

When she wanted to help me become a better person.

Donna.

I walked aimlessly down the halls, my left hand still over my mouth. Why was it there?

I was going insane.

This damn hospital.

If I hadn't gotten her pregnant, I'd still be able to hug her.

Her smile.

She'd still be smiling.

I managed to drink some water. There was ice in it.

Ice.

That's how my body felt.

Ice.

That's how cold she felt. I shivered. I took another drink, ignoring the ice and throwing the cup away.

I'm still breathing.

I'll be okay.

No I won't.

Not without her.

I stopped. My right hand was on the door. My left was to my side. What door was this?

In front of me, on the door, it was engraved with, "NURSERY".

"DECEASED".

I opened the door.

It closed by itself behind me. Somehow I wandered to the nursery. What if the Grim Reaper was following me? Would all of these children die just by my walking past them? I probably reeked of death. Death and tears.

I managed to look up from the door. I saw three families. One other man. One hating teenager.

The Sons.

The Briefs.

The Mitchells.

Augustine.

Lucas.

They all stayed. They didn't have a reason to. Donna wasn't here. Donna. The person they all loved.

The person I loved.

I felt numb. Somehow my legs were walking further. I saw Bulma walk towards me. She looked concerned.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

It felt painful to hear her say that.

Why was she sorry?

I shot her.

I demeaned her.

It hurts.

I walked past her. It was dead silent. With water in my system, I could feel tears stinging in my eyes. I blinked them back. I saw Trunks. He didn't say anything. I kept walking forward. I only stopped when I got to Lucas.

So shy.

He was such a smart kid.

But he can definitely hate someone.

Someone like me.

He had such a hateful glare in his eyes. The whites of his eyes were tinted pink. His cheeks were tear stained. His frail hands were clenched into fists.

Donna.

"How could you let her die?!" I heard him shout. It wasn't a memory. It was happening. He blamed me.

"You let my mom die!" He was crying.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. I couldn't look him in the eye. Tears stung.

"You're sorry?! You're SORRY?!"

I didn't respond.

"I wish you hadn't gotten her pregnant! She wouldn't be DEAD!"

It burned. I know I shouldn't have. It was my fault.

"She's DEAD! Don't you care?!" His voice was breaking.

"Yes," I say, tears running down my cheeks. "I care...I..."

He hated me.

Why was I trying to explain?

She was dead.

Three words.

She was dead.

She is dead.

She's not returning.

I am alone.

He hates me.

Three words.

I heard Lucas get pulled back. He was yelling something else. It had "death" or "dead" in it. I know. I know.

She's dead.

It's my fault.

I held back a sob. It hurt so much. My body burned. I felt weak. She's gone.

Three words.

Please come back.

I love you.

Why did you?

Donna and Louis.

I just can't.

It's my fault.

I can't smile.

I can't speak.

Three words.

Too many words.

Why can't I stop thinking? I wish my mind would turn off. Stop thinking. I'll go insane.

I felt so alone. My heart hurts. The heart with a hole in it hurt.

My parents.

Was this how they felt when my brother died by the same condition?

How could I feel nothing?

It hurts so much.

Make it stop.

My brother. My parents. I feel so sorry for them.

This is unbearable. Losing someone you've been with for so long. She was my sanity. She can't just leave. It still seems like she'll walk in and I'll spin her around, kiss her, walk home.

It feels so fake.

I didn't know I was crying.

When did I start crying?

Arms were around me. I leaned into them. They were taller than me. Augustine.

I cried harder. I was so tired of crying. I cried so much. She kept me so honest. She kept me from breaking. She kept me from sinning. She kept me from hating.

Donna.

I broke again. I would've fallen if Augustine didn't support me.

Support.

Donna. She supported me so much.

Donna.

Donna.

It hurt so much. I can't say it enough. She's dead. She's gone. She's not here. She's gone away. Why did she die? She won't support me. Two, three, four. So many set of words. Too many sentences describe it.

I heard a door shut. I pulled away from Augustine. I looked around. They all left.

Augustine was still there.

"You okay, mate?" He asked. His eyes were red. His cheeks were slick with tears. Tears were still rolling down them. His shirt had my tears on it. I felt weak. Faint. Is that how she felt before she died?

How can anyone live with this grief?

I want it to go.

I want her back.

Donna.

Augustine put an arm around me, leading me to the twins. They both looked so happy.

They had no mother.

They were still happy.

How could they?

They were so cute.

I loved them instantly. My heart felt a little better. Augustine was speaking. I tuned him out. The two of them looked so happy to see me. They didn't care who I was. They smiled.

Donna. Louis.

"I'll drive you home."

I nodded. I didn't trust myself anyway. I didn't want to have a breakdown while driving.

"I'll meet you in the car," he said. "I'm going to get these two." I nodded. I sniffed. My nose burned.

Seconds later I was in the parking lot. It felt like seconds, anyway. My mind had turned off. It was so much better.

I felt so empty.

Donna.

Donna.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I got into the car, collapsing in the seat of Augustine's car.

I never said goodbye.

I never said "I love you".

I never married her.

I never lived with her.

I never...

There were so many things I won't be able to do. The hot tears burned against me. I felt like those cartoons that are colored blue when they're sad. I felt numb. I felt like throwing up.

I was dreaming.

I'll wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

I'm in my bed.

She's okay.

The twins are giggling and smiling in their cradle.

What happened? I thought she was dead. I thought I was depressed. No, I was happy. Ecstatic. Donna kissed my cheek.

"What's wrong?" She asked. She hugged me. "I have an appointment at 2:00."

We were at my place. Everything wad already moved in. What was I worried about? Donna's okay. It was just a bad dream. I let out a breath of relief.

"I thought you died," I say, a slight chill going down my spine. She looked concerned.

"Really? Huh." She smiled. "Too much caffeine." She gave a bottle to the girl. "She's just the cutest. Don't you think?"

I nod. "Yeah..." I chuckled weakly. The dream was so vivid. She handed me the girl. She smiled. She looked so happy. Donna smiled. Then she froze.

I woke up.

I was in the passenger seat of Augustine's car again.

What happened to the warmth? Where's Donna?

I looked up from the dashboard. My place. We were in front of my place. How did I get outside?

I looked to my left. Augustine was turning the car off. He looked over to me. He smiled sadly.

"Hey. Sleep is good for you. You should get some rest once we get inside, alright, mate?"

I was asleep?

Donna.

She's dead. She's dead.

Her still against the bed. No breath. No heartbeat. I slumped forward. It wad a dream. She was okay in my dream. In a dream. She was just a dream.

Donna.

The angel.

I hope she didn't fall.

Please be in heaven. Please be okay.

Please come back.

I got out of the car. The house looked colder than normal.

"I'm going to stay with you for a few days, alright?"

I nod shallowly. I went inside. Augustine took a few more minutes to come in, carrying the twins. I heard them giggle.

God, it hurts to hear them. But it also helps. They're okay. They're safe. They're healthy.

I'm not. It hurts.

I went upstairs.

Every step reminded me I would never have her move in. I knew Lucas wouldn't. He'll probably stay with a relative.

Lucas.

I'm to blame.

She is dead.

Dead.

It hurts so much.

Each step gave me a memory.

The first kiss.

The first date.

The first hug.

The first promise.

The first night.

The first smile.

The first meeting.

The first fight.

The first introduction.

The first insulting.

It hurt. It hurt like a dagger. No one would take it out. It was going to stay there, wasn't it?

Why'd she let me go?

I stepped inside my room. There was a small box on the end table. It was covered in velvet.

"Hold on to the ring."

That was what Donna had said. The ring.

My breath hitched.

More tears.

Too many tears.

There's no purpose for the ring. My legs were about to about to buckle underneath me. I shakily stumbled to the bed, collapsing onto it. I couldn't stand by myself. Today was a blur. The sun's rays were warm.

The sun.

The golden streak on her face.

The smile.

More tears.

I keep breaking. I was turning to glass. Every beat of my heart hurt. I felt so hollow. So empty.

Donna.

How long did I have to wait to be back with her?

Donna.

Donna.

I fell asleep.

Three words.

I'm to blame.


	3. Chapter 3

(Hello, again! I was kinda unsatisfied with how the last one ended - need some better endings, ya know? - so I decided to write this one! The final part. So, let's get started!)

I woke up, feeling a lot better. Sleep can definitely help. I probably would've never gotten to sleep if I was used to sleeping in the same bed as Donna.

Oh. Right. Donna.

With a heavy heart, I got out of bed, smoothing the sheets back to how they were before. I sighed, going to the door. I went back down the stairs, seeing it was growing late.

I saw Augustine with one of the kids - I assumed Louis - going up the stairs. He looked surprised when he saw me.

"Oh, hey. Feelin' alright?"

I nodded. Looking at Louis, he did look pretty happy. But it hurt to know that I hadn't held him once today. At least my mind was a lot more clear with some rest.

"You slept for quite the while there. You 'ad me worried," he chuckled weakly. He seemed concerned. I noticed his smiles were pulled. It certainly helped my mood.

Even sarcasm didn't humor me.

"I'm just setting both of them to bed, alright?"  
Augustine said, adjusting Louis. "You don't have to worry about getting up in the middle of the night, by the way. I'll handle it."

It sounded like he was taking my kids away from me.

He was only doing what was best.

It still hurt.

I hesitated before nodding. I should be the one putting the kids to bed. They probably don't even recognize me as their father. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

Augustine walked past, his robotic arm resting on my shoulder for a few moments before he was completely past me up the stairs.

I ran a hand through my hair.

Maybe it was weird I named my daughter Donna.

Daughter.

The word was already foreign to me.

I went into the kitchen, making some coffee. I already knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. Instead of crying, I'd be thinking about Donna constantly. Even now I was. I remembered how much she hated coffee. She refused it.

I remember when I teased her about hypocrisy when she got an iced coffee.

I remember when she insisted it wasn't the same. I had laughed.

I remember how she ended up laughing with me.

Her laugh.

I really missed her laugh.

I heard the coffee finish brewing beside me. I got a coffee mug out of the cupboard, pouring the cup of coffee.

I already felt exhausted, even though I had slept for a while. I wonder what Augustine did while I was asleep.

Did my job.

I took a drink of the coffee. I instantly regretted it. I choked slightly, putting the cup down and going for sugar and cream. I don't understand how some people drink their coffee black. That was a whole mess of bitterness.

Bitter.

That was what her iced coffee tasted like.

I pushed the thought aside, pouring a large amount of sugar packets into the coffee and stirring it. Then came cream.

All the cream and sugar made it a light brown.

Just add some ice and it'd be her ice coffee.

I took a drink. Not ice coffee.

I saw Augustine come back down the stairs. He spotted me drinking my ice coffee-colored coffee and went into the kitchen.

He poured himself a cup, adding only a packet of sugar.

Sugar.

Donna liked sweets.

How would it have been if Donna was here drinking iced coffee here beside me instead of Augustine?

She would be smiling.

She would be laughing and joking about the labor.

I would end up hugging her. I already knew that much. We'd talk about the kids. Debate on what was better, iced coffee or coffee.

Say how fortunate it was she made it through.

She would mention how many women don't make it through and get sad at the thought.

I'd hug her, but I wouldn't understand why she was sad.

I wouldn't think about the lives I ended.

I would just think about what to get her from the bakery.

Augustine was looking at me with curiosity. I didn't know how long I was lost in my thoughts. Probably a few minutes. I took a sip of the coffee.

How weird it was that I thought about Donna when coffee was the subject. It happened just because of coffee.

I'm probably going to stop drinking coffee.

"The two are asleep," Augustine said, though it was muffled by the cup. "Wot are you thinking about?"

His British accent.

The trip to London.

That was so long ago.

That was when I found out she was pregnant.

That was when the sleepless nights of worry had come around.

"Dez?" I had forgotten about that nickname.

Donna used it sometimes.

"Donna," I croak. I realized I hadn't spoken in a long time.

Was the last time with Lucas?

Lucas.

Was I really to blame?

He kept me thinking about three words.

It's my fault.

I didn't even know if it really was.

It kind of was.

No.

Yes.

Was it my fault because I got her pregnant?

She said it was okay.

Maybe it really wasn't.

Maybe I misheard her.

Maybe it was God's fault.

Maybe it was Death's fault.

Maybe it was Life's fault.

It would be stupid to blame it on God, Death, or Life. They weren't really proven. We've never seen God. Even that Grim Reaper feeling I had didn't prove Death was real. Life...that was something different. Life is an action.

Drawing breath.

A beating heart.

Life isn't a being.

But blaming Donna on Death or God, two beings never proven to be seen while alive, it would be a waste of time. I'd be yelling at air.

"She was a wonderful woman," Augustine said, looking forward as if going through the memories I went through a million times. Then he looked at me.

Hazel.

I remember how much Donna loved hazel eyes.

I remember how happy she was when she saw Augustine had hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry it 'appened, Dez. No one could do a thing about it." He meant it. He really wanted me to understand it.

He thought I blamed the doctors.

He thought I blamed the nurses.

He thought I blamed myself.

I kind of did blame myself.

Lucas was the reason for that.

I just nodded.

"Don't try and think you could have done something different, alright? You couldn't. You supported her. That was all you had to do, Dez. You didn't have to watch her heart. All you 'ad to do was hold her hand."

The lump in my throat was back. I did hold her hand. But when I did, she ended up leaving.

"She left," I said quietly. "But I don't blame anyone for it."

Augustine was quiet for a few moments. "Then you're a lot stronger than most people. Most people try to find someone to blame, they do." He nodded, as if agreeing with himself. "God. The doctors. The nurses. Hell, even their mothers. They try to find anyone to blame." He looked back to me. "You're blaming someone, Dez."

"What makes you think that?" I asked. It came out as a growl. Augustine sighed.

"Because. You 'aven't said a word until now. You're thinking. Thinking means you're sorting through who to blame. Who are you blaming?"

I didn't respond immediately.

Who did I blame?

Did I actually blame myself?

I didn't blame God, Death, or Life.

I didn't blame the doctors, nurses, or the monitor.

But did I blame myself?

I didn't think I could do anything different.

But I did know I got her pregnant.

"I honestly don't know," I say finally. "I want to blame myself. But I can't find any reason other than I got her pregnant." I took a drink of the coffee, finishing it. Augustine took the cup from me, rinsing it and placing it in the dishwasher.

He looked at me sharply. "You can't blame yourself for that. She was happy she was going to have kids." I could hear the click of his mechanical arm moving as he crossed it with his flesh arm. It was odd that he wasn't wearing a long-sleeved shirt or a jacket. He usually did. Maybe he was just comfortable with me. What I'm I talking about - of course he's comfortable with me.

I've known him since fourth grade.

I was the one who said he should get the amputation after his car wreck.

I was the one who he confided in after he learned his parents died in the car wreck.

Of course he is.

Why wouldn't he be comfortable with me?

He finished his coffee, doing the same with his cup that he did with mine.

What he had said was true. She was happy to be pregnant. She was ecstatic.

Her smile.

She smiled so much when she found out.

Why didn't I ever take a picture of it?

Augustine looked at me with curiosity. "You haven't eaten today, 'ave you?"

Most of my day came with sleeping and being heartbroken. I didn't really eat anything, he was right. But I wasn't hungry. But I understood why he was asking.

I shook my head.

"Then you'd better eat something now," he said, striding to the fridge.

How did he know his way around the house, anyway?

He only lived here for six years.

And that was a long time. How does he still remember?

I didn't get my mind today. I remembered the stupidest things. Then I think of more useless things to wonder about. I saw Augustine take out a bar of chocolate.

Chocolate?

I was never a fan of sweets.

Oh, wait.

Donna had craved anything with sugar while pregnant. And octopus. Or the two together.

I always kept something with sugar here for whenever she came over. Chocolate was a main thing.

"I don't like sweets," I say. It didn't sound like my voice. If was a lot deeper. I was already sure I went through puberty.

Does that happened when you're heartbroken?

"Oh, I know," he said while taking a large kitchen knife from its wooden holder. "But tryptophan is inside of chocolate. That generates feeling of happiness as a neurotransmitter. There's also phenylethylalanine that works with the dopamine already in the brain to act as an anti-depressant. And lastly, theobromine. That is less important, as it just works as a weak stimulant to make you 'ave a 'high' feeling," he explained. He cut the thick chocolate into small little pieces.

"...Where did you learn that?" I asked, generally surprised. Even though I had a medical degree - though expired - I never learned it.

"I studied neurology for a year, when I wasn't sure what I wanted to be. Why chocolate makes us 'appy was quite a commonly asked question, it was." He chuckled, handing me a small piece. "You won't even taste it."

I sighed, eating the piece of chocolate. He was right, I didn't taste it, but that didn't mean I wouldn't taste the larger pieces.

Donna.

How happy she would've been to eat a whole bar of chocolate.

I wasn't feeling any different. Even if it was only a small sliver of chocolate, I expected to get some type of effect. I gave Augustine a skeptical look. He shrugged, handing me another piece.

"Just eat it, alright?"

I sighed, eating the slightly larger bit. This time I could taste it. I didn't actually hate chocolate, it just got annoying after a while.

"So what, is this my medicine?" I asked, my low voice still bothering me.

"Yep. One bar a day."

I almost spit out my chocolate. "A whole bar?"

He nodded.

Donna would've been jumping for joy.

I wasn't.

Chocolate wouldn't help me forget her, if that's what he was trying.

Making her come back would.

"You keep eating the chocolate." He put the knife away after rinsing the small specks of chocolate off the blade. He gave me a serious look. "Don't just throw it away. It will help."

He kept the look for what felt like a whole minute before he left the kitchen. I sighed.

I took another piece. I wasn't getting annoyed with the sweet yet. It might've been because it was such small pieces. Augustine certainly wasn't an idiot.

I did feel more awake. The coffee must have helped.

Part of me didn't really want to be awake.

I felt tired in some way, but not in a physical way.

Maybe I was tired of crying.

Maybe I was tired of being sad.

I bet it was both.

I bit into another piece.  
I wonder if one of my kids were going to be a sweet addict? I bet it would be Donna.

Why did they let me name her when I was thinking about the actual Donna?

Well.

She was the actual Donna now.

The original one was gone.

Gone.

What a replacing word.

I wonder why I never used what the hospital used.

DECEASED.

It was like that word kept echoing at me. My heart felt like it had a weight measuring a ton on it.

DECEASED.  
Why didn't I ever use the word?

Gone.

Left.

Disappeared.

Missing.

Not here.

So many words can be used in its place. I might've been afraid of admitting it to myself.

DECEASED.

Should I be over it by now?

Was it natural?

Maybe I was abnormal.

I already was in a sick way.

I killed so many people.

I made so many people feel this way.

Pushing the thought to the side, I ran a hand through my hair. The lump in my throat hadn't left. It just seemed to get bigger and bigger every time I thought about her.

At least I didn't feel numb.

I remember how heavy my body felt in the hospital room.

Was she scared when it happened?

I remember being shot on a job. I ended up having four bullets in me. Being filled with bullets by a shotgun made you think you were going to die. Miraculously, I didn't. I had four scars in my chest and stomach, however.

I had a lot of scars.

Each had a story. I could tell them all.

One on my back from a bad knife fight. I killed the woman, but the scar remains from what the husband did. To protect her.

Another scar is in my left leg. The creator of it has a deep, deep scar in his neck. And he's buried six feet under. He had attempted to cut the muscle in my leg when we both had the same target but came from different bosses.

One landed a place on my back after a surgery when I was young. That was when the I had fallen off a tire swing and managed to land on a sharp piece of our fence. God, were my parents worried.

Lastly, there's a large scar on my chest when I had an open-heart surgery when I was young. That was when the hole in my heart had been causing some problems.

Donna didn't care about the scars.

She didn't even care about the stories.

She didn't judge me for my occupation. She didn't approve, but she didn't think me a bad man.

I remember how bad she felt for Augustine when his wife, Celina, had left him for the occupation. He at least got to keep his daughter, Katy. And, good for him, he's a grandfather.

There was a knock at the door.

I stepped in the direction of the door with another piece of chocolate in my mouth, but Augustine made it there before me. He opened the door to show Alexandra - his granddaughter - with her boyfriend, Nathaniel. Nathaniel's parents, Trunks and May, were they. Lastly, Vegeta, Bulma, and Bulla were there. I wasn't sure where Nathaniel's brother, Christopher, was, but I assumed he was left with Katy or Michael.

Sympathy and concern was not what I needed. I left to the kitchen again. I heard quiet conversation in the front room while I ate some more chocolate. I returned to hear the conversation, but out of sight. I was too focused on what they were saying to taste the piece.

"Are the twins okay?" I heard a female voice ask.

"Of course." Augustine. I'd imagine he smiled when he said it.

"What about-" The word was quietly spoken. I couldn't hear it.

"He's fine," the Brit responded. "A little...sad, though."

They're talking about me.

Great.

Sympathy and concern coming my way.

"I don't think he wants to be bothered."

"Oh...he's not...you know?" The voice was higher-pitched. May.

"No, no, he's not that depressed," Augustine responded softly. I almost couldn't hear him. "He wouldn't hurt himself."

They thought so far to think I was suicidal?

I have kids. But...

Those kids don't even know me.

I heard a sigh of relief from more than one person.

"What about you all?" Augustine asked.

"A little sad," Bulma said.

"Understandable. She was a wonderful person. It's a real shame she had..." Augustine trailed off.

"Are you okay?" I heard a voice ask. It was still female. Alexandra. I assumed the males - Trunks, Nathaniel, and Vegeta - hadn't spoken yet.

"Yes." It sounded slightly forced and choked up. Augustine must have been hit a little hard.

"I feel bad for Desmond." This time it was a male. Trunks.

"He slept most of the day," Augustine said. He sounded better. "Which brings to mind - why are you all here so late?"

"We decided to give him a few hours." Nathaniel.

"You could have come tomorrow."

"We just felt bad."

"I understand. Would you like anything?" Footsteps. They must have come into the living room.

"No, thanks, we just ate."

"I miss Donna..." May.

"We all do," Augustine responded. It sounded like a TV show. Yet here I was, not wanting to be seen and hiding near the entrance of the living room.

The chocolate must have been helping. I hadn't felt the need to cry.

"She was super sweet," May continued.

"She painted well." Bulma.

"I wonder if she would be happy to be with her kids."

"Of course she would," Augustine chuckled. "She was so happy to find out she was carrying, she was."

"She must be having a hell of a time in Otherworld, then," I heard Trunks say.

"Yeah." Nathaniel.

"We could revive her." Bulma.

Either Alexandra knew or she was confused, as there was a silence around the room.

Revival.

I would see her again.

Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea?

"No."

No?

Who said it?

The British voice gave it away.

"Dez can't cheat. Millions of people go through this. He has to learn."

Learn what? What is there to learn?

I know how to be sad.

I knew how to remember somebody.

I already regretted everything. What the hell did I need to learn?

I was in torment.

I regretted never saying goodbye.

I regretted never treating her better.

I regretted everything I ever said wrong.

What did I need to learn?

The chocolate wasn't helping. I felt tears burn in my eyes.

Bringing her back would've been amazing.

I didn't need to go through anymore of this.

It hurt.

It burned.

Augustine knew.

He knew what it felt like to lose someone.

He knew how much it makes your heart hurt.

Why the hell was he saying to not bring her back?!

Everyone was silent.

"You're right..." May said.

He was RIGHT?!

"It would be for the best." Bulma.

For once, I didn't regret shooting her. Normally it burned to think about. But now, she deserved it. She did hate me. And after the millions of apologies I had said. After the millions of times I had tried to tell her I'd changed. Now she wants me to feel this burning in my heart.

All around, people were agreeing. They all said it would help. I didn't understand. How does grief help anybody? I know how people feel when they lose someone. Okay. Gold star. But why can't she come back? I learned my lesson. I learned how bad it is to lose someone. But I quit my job so long ago. Why do I need to be taught something?

I felt tears. They were too familiar to me now. The lump in my throat felt like a million needles were being stabbed into my esophagus. I held back the want to make any noise.

I needed her back.

I needed her beside me.

I needed her smile, her comfort, her acceptance.

I just needed to touch her, see her one more time.

I couldn't let her leave without a single goodbye.

Donna.

She seemed so close.

All that was needed was to revive her.

That was it.

Make a wish. Done. She'd be in my arms and smiling beside me as we took care of the kids.

They can't just say I can't have her back. They can't keep her away from me.

Why?

"I won't mention it to Dez," Augustine said softly. "Would you mind telling the Sons about anything they want to know? I'm sure Dez wants to be left alone."

"Sure," Nathaniel said. "I'll tell Vanilla."

That was it?

They dashed aside my chance to be happy again just like that and moved on to something else?

I felt exhausted again.

My limbs felt like weights.

I wanted to cry. I already was, but I didn't want them to be near me.

Thousands of thoughts raced through my head.

I heard a door close.

They already left?

They didn't even ask me if I wanted her back.

I heard footsteps. I felt furious. I turned and punched Augustine square in the jaw, seeing him hit his back on the wall next to him. He blinked, a hand on his jaw.

"Wot was that for?!"

"For not ASKING me!" I shouted. My voice sounded raw.

"Asking wot?"

"You know how I'm feeling!" I advanced on him. "Why did you just tell them to not bring her back?!" My throat burned. My whole body burned.

"Dez, calm down, it's for your own good-"

"For WHAT?! I learned what I needed!" My breath hitched. "She's gone! I know! I'm not denying it! I regret everything I did wrong! What do I need to learn?!" It was hard to speak. Sobs were trying to work their way into my sentences.

"I know!" Augustine was yelling now. "I know you learned your lesson. The point is that you can't just ask for something and it'll be given to you, mate. You can't think that way. What happens when you can't bring her back? What will you do?" He was yelling louder than I was.

I knew what he was expecting.

He knew I would say that I would try to revive her again.

He was right.

I would want her back.

Augustine's expression softened. He sighed. "I'm sorry, Dez. You just need to learn..."

I still felt enraged. He couldn't just tell me to wait for myself to die and be with Donna. I couldn't go through that. I needed her. I'll say it and never stop saying it.

I needed her.

She kept me sane.

Those three words, I needed her, was what kept me missing her.

It was true.

I needed her.

I needed her just as much as she needed me when she was scared at her appointment. She was always so scared to hear the four words she dreaded. "You have...to live." When her life was given a limit. She was so terrified to hear it. I'd always tell her those three words.

You'll be okay.

I was terrified without her there. I was afraid to hear that I could do without her.

I felt his metallic arm on my shoulder. I punched him again.

He went back a step, surprised but also mad. "Dammit, Desmond!" I heard him say. I dodged a blow he made at me, but I made one at his stomach. He didn't seem fazed. He was holding his robotic arm back. I knew he didn't want to hurt me.

But I wanted to hurt him.

I needed to let him know that it hurt to be alone. It god damn hurt to be told that it would be better without someone.

I punched him again, but he delivered a blow to my stomach. The air was knocked out of my lungs, but the blow itself didn't hurt. I lashed out in a blind rage. For a few minutes, he went without being his prosthetic arm. But then, when he felt enough was enough, he pulled a hard punch to my temple.

Down I went.

When I came to, it was definitely late. My head still hurt. My stomach ached. I reached up to my temple, feeling a bandage, or something like it. It felt padded. I wasn't aware of what they were called, but it wasn't the first I had had one. Metal on flesh wasn't a great combination - of course I bled.

I was in my bed, my covers pulled over me. I glanced out the window. The stars were out. No sign of day.

She loved the stars.

She loved to dance.

She loved to paint.

She loved the sunset.

She loved puffins.

She loved me.

She was gone.

I glanced to my left to see my digital clock say it was three in the morning.

I groaned. My head hurt. At least it was a distraction from my thoughts. I noticed a small note on the end table. On it, it read:

"Dez, I'm sorry for hitting you. It was the only one to get you to stop fighting. I understand you were mad. But you just need to realize that this is the best for you. I already cleaned the wound, so don't worry.

Also, Lucas called. On the phone, he said that he's sorry for yelling at you. He said that he doesn't hate you as much. He also said that he didn't mind moving in with you. But he did want me to tell you that you aren't his favourite father, so don't let it get to your head.

You can tell me if you're okay with him moving in tomorrow morning. I'll call him back.

P.S.: You really need to work on your punches."

I almost wanted to laugh. So I didn't hurt him. I noticed his odd spelling of the word, "favorite", but it must've been because he was British. I remember Donna always liked to write "color" as "colour" and "favorite" as "favourite" just to annoy me.

I'd always cross out the "u"s just to tease her back. Then we'd both laugh.

Laughing seemed so foreign now.

I got out of bed, my temple pounding as I walked out of the room. The house was dark. Augustine was probably in bed. I glanced to the left. The door with a small hand print colored pink was on it.

Next to it was one colored blue, though bigger. Beneath both of them, the words, "KIDS' ROOM" was painted on in curled, cursive writing. I placed my hand over the smaller pink hand print.

Donna.

I remember how we both painted the door to suit the twins. Donna painted the words. Afterwards, she had dipped her hand in the pink paint and pressed her hand on the door. I had done the same, though with the blue. The hand print was cold. It wasn't the same, but it warmed my heart to remember it. I kept my hand on the memory of hers for a few moments before I returned to my senses.

I opened the door, hearing no sound emitting from the door. Both kids were in their own cribs. Both were completely silent.

Around the room were little turtles and unicorns. Louis' crib was painted green to suit the turtles, Donna's pink for the latter. A small bookshelf was against the wall colored purple. Books were on the shelf, mainly those of the old classic fairy tales.

A chair was next to the bookcase. It was Donna's idea. "To read them stories," she had said. I remember she had smiled the whole time while we put the room together. Two mobiles were playing music in harmony. Both children slept silently.

I moved on the soft carpet to look into Louis' crib. He was laying on his back, peacefully asleep in his own dreams. On the other side of the room, Donna slept similarly. I leaned on Louis' crib, hearing a soft creak. I wasn't one to watch people sleep. But there was something calming about watching him sleep.

I didn't notice his eyes had opened until I focused back on him. He smiled, cooing softly and holding his small hands out.

He seemed to know I was his father. That or he was just happy to see me. I smiled to myself.

It felt like so long since I smiled. It didn't hurt. It wasn't forced. It was a genuine smile. I picked him up, hearing him giggle happily. I heard another coo, this one from the other side of the room. I looked over and saw Donna had awoken as well in a happy fit of giggles and smiles.

I set Louis down to take Donna out. They were both so happy. I never heard them giggle and smile so much. I smiled again. I didn't feel sad anymore. My heart was filled with the happiness of the two. I took both of them and sat down in the chair, seeing them smile.

"This is only happening once," I whispered to the both of them. "From now on, you're sleeping and I'm not coming in here to entertain you both. That's a daytime thing."

They didn't seem to mind. Well, they couldn't really understand English yet. But that didn't stop me much. I laughed softly. Laughter felt just as good as smiling. My chest felt light. I was so used to it feeling heavy.

Louis yawned. Donna followed suit. They blinked tiredly. I smiled, pressing a kiss onto both of their foreheads. They yawned again. Donna laid on my chest, falling asleep instantly. I blinked. I had planned to take them back to their cribs, but they seemed comfortable on me. Louis did the same thing. I yawned.

I guess spending a night with the two of them wasn't so bad.

They didn't care if I had a few scars. They didn't care about the stories behind them.

They didn't care if I had a bad past.

They didn't care if I didn't see them every hour of the day.

They knew how to make me feel better.

Their smiles warmed my heart.

They were precious to me.

"I promise to be a good father," I said quietly. "And I swear I'll protect you with my life." The two promises I never told Donna.

They could be my peace.

They could comfort me when I was feeling guilty for what I'd done.

They could make me smile when I'm down or hurt.

They could fill the hole in my heart.

"You'll be okay." Those three words.

I said them to Donna so many times.

Three words.

They were all she needed.

Now they told them to me.

You'll be okay.

And I knew I would be. 


End file.
